


It Fell Apart Right from the Start

by Jordan_Marine



Series: Chasing Down the Gods [4]
Category: The Talon Saga - Julie Kagawa
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Crying, Dante Hill (mentioned), Gen, Late Night Conversations, People who are bad at emotions talk about their emotions, he's still locked in the basement, the whole shibang, there is screaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 23:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18883279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jordan_Marine/pseuds/Jordan_Marine
Summary: Ember and Kain have a long-since necessary conversation. It goes as well as one can expect.





	It Fell Apart Right from the Start

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story wasn't supposed to exist. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Ember couldn’t pretend that everything was fine, no matter how much she wanted to.

The good news was that Dante wasn’t going completely insane in his isolation. He had taken to doing the laundry whenever Ember forgot to, and told her that he was trying to focus on smoothing out his limp. He wasn’t too resentful of his situation either, even if he complained about the subpar food and the boredom.

The bad news was... everything else. Dante wasn’t going to be allowed out anytime soon. Riley refused to talk about him at all, and when Ember brought it up anyway, he’d get all misty-eyed and cagey. Most of the underground tried to pretend that he never existed. His friends— Hamsah, Astatine, and Kain— were their own problem. Astatine hated him with a burning vengeance, nearly tried to kill him when they told her what he had done, and kept talking about how she never should have given him a second chance. Hamsah did his chores and his training with a detached apathy, and said that it was what he got for trusting someone so easily when Ember asked him about it. He wasn’t angry, but she wasn’t sure that what he was feeling was any better.

And  _ Kain…  _ Kain refused to talk about it to anyone. Not to Jade, not to his friends, and certainly not to her.

It made running into him at 5:00 in the morning a whole lot more awkward.

Truthfully, Ember hadn’t slept well since Crescent Beach, and that was nearly six months ago. Usually, when she woke up, it would be enough to check over the people closest to her and make sure that they were still alive, or go downstairs and wake up Dante to make sure that he hadn’t caught a fever or been murdered. Other times, she’d simply wake up because she was hungry. So when she woke up to a pit in her stomach, she could easily sneak around to the kitchen undetected, just like the nights she had done so before.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only person who had made this into a habit.

For a few seconds, she and Kain stared at each other in the dim light of a lamp that he had obviously moved from the living room. He was giving her a deer-in-headlights look, frozen in place, and she probably wasn’t doing any better. 

She had been meaning to talk to him eventually, mostly out of courtesy— he had been burned by  _ her  _ brother, and as much as they liked to pretend the other didn’t exist, she knew that he was hurt by it. However, that didn’t mean that she wanted the conversation to be here and now. Neither of them were exactly at their best. It was way too early for this.

Ember ended up being the one to break the silence.

“Is that waffle batter?”

Kain looked back to what he was doing, his posture going slightly more lax at the conversation Ember had chosen. No fighting. No talking about soldiers, battles, or traitors. Just the first thing that came to mind.

“Pancake batter, actually,” he replied. Ember tried not to be disappointed. “Jade’s been acting stressed, and Sage is always tired, ever since—” He stammered slightly, but recovered just as quickly. “And I don’t trust anyone else well enough to cook, so… pancakes. In bulk. With bacon, hopefully, depending on when people wake up.”

“That’s… nice of you.”

“I do try.” He turned back to the task at hand, but Ember noticed how he shifted his stance slightly, so she wouldn’t fall in his blindspot. She supposed that she couldn’t blame him.

“So… why are you up so early?” Ember asked in a transparent attempt to keep the conversation from tapering into an awkward silence. “And… why is there a bag of frozen blueberries in the sink?”

“I’m waiting for them to thaw, and I don’t want water all over the counter,” Kain said, as if it was the obvious thing in the world. Ember retrieved a frozen burrito from the refrigerator and stuck it in the microwave. She didn’t press on her first question. After all, it wasn’t like she was doing any better.

Ember swallowed and tapped her fingers, waiting for her meal to be done. She and Kain didn’t like each other. They weren’t  _ friends.  _ They were just civil with each other for convenience’s sake. That was their mutual, unspoken agreement. She could get her burrito and retreat back upstairs. That would be within her right.

“How are you holding up?” Ember asked before she lost her nerve. Kain stiffened. “With… y’know.” She swallowed. “Dante.”

“With…” Kain’s jaw clenched, and he carefully set down the rubber scraper that he was using to stir the pancake batter. “I’m great. I’m fine. Absolutely fantastic.”

Ember bit the inside of her cheek to conceal a cringe. “You know, when you say it like that, you give off the impression that you’re not  _ fine. _ ” 

Kain stayed still for a few moments. Then he pushed the bowl into the corner and grabbed another one from off the shelf. He started measuring out flour methodically, even though she could tell that his hands were shaking.

“I know that I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, right now, but… I know my brother. If you need insight, or just someone to talk to—”

“You know, I liked our arrangement where we didn’t talk to each other,” Kain snapped. Ember looked away. The microwave dinged, but she didn’t move to claim her burrito.

_ God,  _ what was she getting herself into?

“Your friendship meant a lot to him,” she said softly.

Kain snorted. “Of course it did. That’s why he lied the entire way through it.”

“He wasn’t… doing anything out of malice. I know that it doesn’t help, but he wasn’t trying to hurt you, or anything,” Ember said. She waited for Kain to tell her to fuck off, or maybe throw a carton of baking soda at her head, but he stayed silent. She took that as an invitation to continue. “You… he didn’t have any friends, other than me, for sixteen years. We were all each other had, and then we separated, and I got Riley and— and... Jade and Wes, and he had no one. And… then he had you. And Hamsah and Astatine. You three helped him when I was gone. You gave him friendship and didn’t expect anything in return.” Ember swallowed. “He was afraid to lose that.”

“He didn’t deserve to have it in the first place.

Ember sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling. “No,” she admitted. “He didn’t.”

They were both quiet. Because that was the ugly truth of it all. Her brother, for how much she loved him, didn’t deserve any of what he got. He barely deserved his second chance, let alone the friendships he had made. 

“Maybe it’s not about what he deserves. Maybe it’s about something else.”

“You going to tell me it’s about what he  _ needs? _ ” Kain asked softly. He turned to face her, arms crossed and face set into a stone-cold glare. “You want to talk about Dante?  _ Fine,  _ let’s talk about Dante. Let’s talk about how it felt when his vessel tore apart my face, how my— my  _ blood  _ tasted in my throat, because it was  _ everywhere _ , or the week when I was completely blind because of him. There was  _ nothing,  _ Ember. Do you know how that feels, being blind and helpless on a St. George base, unable to do  _ anything  _ without help? Or we could talk about how I could hear Wes crying because Jem  _ died  _ in his care, and how you don’t even know who she was. You didn’t know  _ any  _ of them, and Dante didn’t know any of them, and I  _ did,  _ and I couldn’t even help bury them because your  _ precious brother  _ ripped my eye apart.” He took a shuddering breath, tears gathering in his remaining eye. “We could talk about how he let me  _ care  _ about him, care  _ for  _ him, all while knowing exactly what he did. Or we could talk about how Hamsah decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, because Hamsah genuinely wants to be a  _ good person, _ and has completely  _ shut down. _ ” He managed to keep his voice soft enough not to rouse anyone in the other room, but it cut through the air nonetheless. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s talk about that.”

Ember clenched her jaw, trying to find something to say. Kain shook his head and wiped his eye, leaning against the counter. His shoulders shook, and his breaths weren’t coming out even. He closed his eye tightly, and Ember realized that she couldn’t even tell where his other one was supposed to be in between all of the scarring. She looked away.

This had been a mistake.

“And… I  _ still  _ care about him,” he whispered softly. Ember blinked and looked up. “How fucked up is that? I still— I  _ hate  _ what he did to me, and I hate that he didn’t let me know, I hate that he took that decision away from me, but I—” he gave a breathy, helpless laugh. “He was scared, and he was broken, and helping him made me feel less scared and…  _ fucking  _ broken. And now— now… Fucking hell.”

Kain’s gaze was fixed solidly on the floor. He took a deep breath and shook his head. When he spoke, his voice cracked.

“And I’m standing in a kitchen at five o’clock in the morning, crying in front of a girl who hates my guts. My life is in shambles.” He turned around and grabbed an egg out of the carton. “Just came down here to make food, didn’t ask for this— this bullshit.”

“I don’t think that it’s fucked up,” Ember said softly.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Look at who your boyfriend is.”

Ember pointedly ignored the end of his comment. “You were there for each other when you needed someone. Of course you still care.”

Kain snorted and cracked his egg into the bowl. He didn’t turn around as he continued, and Ember wondered if he was attempting to end the conversation. Maybe it was best that it  _ did  _ end. Kain was still crying, albeit more concealed than a few seconds beforehand. Ember didn’t know how to fix anything. She wasn’t Jade. She wasn’t even Riley. Hell, at least Wes had Kain’s respect.

Why was she even doing this?

_ It’s what they both need, right now. _

“I’m not like you, Ember,” he said, his voice still strained. “I’m not keen on second chances. It’s just a way to get yourself burnt twice.”

“Maybe you should give it a chance. People can surprise you.”

He didn’t reply. After a few minutes, he put the bowl into the corner and grabbed another. Ember wondered if he actually needed that much pancake batter, or if he was just making it to give himself something to do. She hoped that he was thinking over what she had said. She hoped that she had said the right things. Or at least, that she hadn’t made everything worse.

Maybe it would be best if she went to bed. They could continue the conversation on grounds of their choosing, with a full eight hours of sleep, or at least far away from civilization where no one would hear them screaming at each other.

Maybe that was all he needed. Someone to acknowledge his screaming.

“I don’t even know if any of it was real,” Kain whispered. “If he actually cared.”

“He did,” Ember replied. “He does.”

“According to you.”

“Do you want to ask him yourself?”

“No.”

“He didn’t mean to hurt you,” Ember said softly. “I know that… that he  _ did _ . He hurt you, and Hamsah and Astatine. He hurt  _ me.  _ But I can promise that he didn’t mean to do it. As much as Dante hates being confined to the basement, he’s about a thousand times more upset that he lost his friends. I think he’d do just about anything to prove himself to you. It doesn’t make it better, but… I don’t want you to lose each other just because you think it’s too much of a risk.”

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Kain said. “Those people he killed deserved to live. Sage deserves a future where he can move and breathe without pain. Hamsah deserves to fly again without nerve damage. And— and he took that. He took that, and then he took my care, and he didn’t deserve it.”

Ember looked out the window at the setting moon, low on the horizon even though sunrise wouldn’t be for another two hours. “He didn’t,” she agreed. “But it’s what he needed. And I… I’m thankful that you were there to give it to him. I just wish that what the two of you made with each other wasn’t tarnished by what you know. For both of your sakes.” 

“Yeah,” Kain rasped. “So do I.”

“And if you ever want to talk to him...”

“I don’t,” he interrupted softly. “At least, not right now. I don’t think it would end well for either of us,” Kain said. “Sorry I can’t give you the answer you’re looking for.”

Ember pursed her lips and nodded, even though Kain couldn’t see it. 

“So… what  _ do _ you want to do now?”

He let out a long breath and turned around, leaning up against the counter. His eye was clouded and hollow, still red and swollen from crying. The scars were his other eye was meant to be stood out like an open mar. Ember could barely remember what he looked like without it.

“I have no idea.” 

A silence stretched between them, and there was nothing that either of them to alleviate it. The dragonelles snored in the living room, unaware of the world around them. In that moment, Ember envied them.

Kain swallowed thickly. “Breakfast is at eight. Don’t be late. Okay?”

Ember nodded. She retreated up the stairs, into her room. Nettle and Sera were both sound asleep. Nettle didn’t even stir when Ember climbed into the bed that they shared. She wasn’t hungry any longer, but she didn’t feel any closer to sleeping. If anything, she was just more wired.

_ I tried. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that more than what was ever expected of me? _

She closed her eyes and let out a long breath, listening to the crickets and the wind outside. Maybe it was enough. Maybe Kain would start talking to his friends, or Jade, or Riley. Maybe at one point, he’d find it in himself to seek out Dante, and her brother would be able to regain some small semblance of what he had lost. Or maybe it wasn’t enough to do anything.

But at least it was something.

It was something.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that was something.
> 
> I'm actually pretty insecure about this story; I wrote it in two days, edited the hell out of it, and it still feels stiff in my eyes. I know that I'm my own worst critic, and I'm probably noticing things that no one else will, but if you want to drop a review to share your opinion, that would be great. This IS actually a part of the story where I would welcome constructive criticism.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support and encouragement.


End file.
